


Nothing's Changed

by milokno



Series: Home [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A Small Bit, Angst, Crying, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Violence, request, someone punches a wall oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26580037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milokno/pseuds/milokno
Summary: He rests his forehead on Henrik’s shoulder. The fabric of the other man’s t-shirt is tickling his skin, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care. Not when Henrik’s shushing his cries and rubbing his fingertips along the short strands of Chase’s dark brown hair.His voice hitches on every other word, “I don’t know who I am withouther.”
Relationships: Chase Brody/Stacy Brody
Series: Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933381
Kudos: 9





	Nothing's Changed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request from florence!!!! It took me a while to finish, but I think I like how it turned out.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://milo-kno.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> Enjoy ;)

Henrik’s eyes, behind the thin-rimmed glasses he wears, are dull and red. He looks as though _he’s_ the one that’s been sobbing for the last two hours and not Chase. The bags underneath the doctor’s eyes have worsened since they saw each other last. How much time has passed, anyway? It’s been too long.

“I can’t—” Chase’s voice breaks. He winces at the noise, but after sucking in a breath through his nose, he continues, “I can’t go home.”

Chase isn’t even sure where home _is_ right now. After all, Stacy and the kids aren’t his home anymore, are they?

There are raindrops dripping from his hair all the way down to his beard. There’s so much _wet_ all over his face that he can no longer differentiate between what’s the rain and what’s the tears spilling out of his eyes.

Besides the rain, and the shaky breaths escaping from Chase’s lips, it’s silent. With his and Stacy’s near constant arguments as of late, as well as the kids, there hasn’t exactly been any silence in his life. Now that everything is quiet, though, he can’t stand it.

“Come inside,” Henrik’s voice is so soft, like he thinks that if he talked any louder Chase would break into little pieces. “I don’t want you to get sick.” The doctor takes a step backwards, and he pulls the front door open wider so Chase can step inside. He shuts the door behind him.

Chase is getting water all over the hardwood floors. Henrik, who either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, motions at the coat rack beside the door. Chase slips the jacket he’s wearing off his shoulders, and he hangs it where the other man told him to. He hesitates, then decides to take his shoes off as well, and he places them on the floor.

When he turns back around, Henrik’s already started to walk further into the house. Chase has to do a half-jog to catch up with him.

“When was the last time you ate?” The words come out in a rush. “Though, I’ll be honest, Chase, I don’t have much here to eat.” A soft, awkward sort of noise falls from Henrik’s lips. The noise is probably meant to be a chuckle, although it resembles a scoff more than anything else. Neither of them seem to be in the mood to laugh. After a moment, the other man continues, “I could make you something, if—"

Chase finds himself zoning out. He doesn’t mean to— _he doesn’t want to._ It’s as if he’s sinking, his body surrounded by murky, blue water from the top of his head all the way down to his toes. He can hear Henrik’s voice, distantly, though he’s having a hard time trying to understand his words.

He blinks once, then twice.

He’s no longer submerged underwater like he’d felt he was a few moments before. He realizes, then, that Henrik has stopped talking. He’s turned so the two of them are facing each other, and he’s staring directly into Chase’s eyes. He doesn’t look mad, like Chase had expected him to. No, Henrik only looks concerned. Somehow, that’s worse than if he had just been angry with him.

Does he _want_ Henrik to be mad at him?

“She’s better off without me.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s so foreign, so devoid of everything that makes Chase who he is. “Isn’t she?”

Henrik takes a few steps towards him. His eyes are soft and pleading, and his chapped lips are parted as he tries to deny Chase’s words. His voice is just as quiet as it was before, “Chase—"

He raises his right hand up in front of him to stop the other man from coming any closer. Chase exhales sharply through his nose, and his fingers curl into a fist until his knuckles turn white.

Chase has to force the words to leave his lips, “I’m sorry I came here. I should— I should go.” He doesn’t know where he’ll go, but he supposes he could drive to a parking lot and he could sleep there, for tonight at least. He shouldn’t expect Henrik to always be there to comfort him when his life turns to shit. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me just because I’m a fuck-up that ruined his own marriage and—”

There’s a loud _thud_ — followed shortly by a _crack_ —and then Chase’s eyes are shooting up to see what caused the noise.

There, on the wall beside Henrik, is a hole. It’s fairly big, about the size of a fist, and—

And then Chase realizes what happened.

Henrik punched the wall.

The doctor’s eyebrows are angled downwards, and his lips are forming a deep scowl. “Would you just listen to me for two seconds?” Henrik’s voice is _loud_ , and it’s harsh and rough. It echoes throughout the house and straight into Chase’s ears. Despite himself, he flinches back.

Henrik notices. Of course he does.

Chase is sobbing again. He doesn’t like crying, and he hates himself for doing this to Henrik. Back when they still shared a dorm in college, Chase would always go to him for support when he found himself getting dumped by every girl he fell in love with too fast. It’s a wonder that he and Stacy got married at all, to be honest.

Things haven’t changed, have they?

Both of his hands come up to rub at the skin on his tear-stained cheeks. His words come out in a strangled cry, “I’m so sorry.”

For the second time tonight, Henrik walks towards him, and this time he doesn’t stop him. The doctor throws his arms around his shoulders, and one of his hands comes up to cradle the back of Chase’s head. At the gentle touch, Chase manages to sob harder, although he wasn’t aware that it was possible.

He rests his forehead on Henrik’s shoulder. The fabric of the other man’s t-shirt is tickling his skin, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care. Not when Henrik’s shushing his cries and rubbing his fingertips along the short strands of Chase’s dark brown hair.

His voice hitches on every other word, “I don’t— I don’t know who I am without _her_.”

“You’re Chase,” Henrik’s voice is filled with nothing but adoration, “You’re my friend.” It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but when they do it hits him _hard_. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, and then more tears are sliding down his cheeks and seeping into the other man’s t-shirt.

After that, neither of them speak for a long while. They stand in Henrik’s kitchen, holding onto each other like they’d die if they didn’t, and Chase lets everything out. He sobs into Henrik’s shoulder, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt in-between his fingers. He can feel the weight being taken off his shoulders. His sobs aren’t as strong as they were a few moments ago, and the tears that once spilled out of his eyes are beginning to dry on the skin of his face.

Chase’s voice is hoarse when he speaks again. His words are muffled in Henrik’s t-shirt when he says, “’m sorry I made you punch the wall.”

Henrik pulls back from the hug. He keeps one of his hands on Chase’s shoulder, and their eyes meet. The corners of his lips are tugged into a smile, and a small chuckle—this time one that’s _real_ — shakes him. Despite his laughter, there are tears rolling down his cheeks and falling off his chin.

There’s a pang of guilt in Chase’s heart at the sight.

“You okay, Hen?” Chase knows it’s a stupid question before he asks it. He doesn’t know what else to say.

There’s a pause, like Henrik has to actually think about whether he’s alright or not, and then he’s laughing. It’s not a small chuckle, like from a few seconds before. No. Henrik is full on _cackling_.

Chase stares at him, his eyes wide and his jaw on the floor.

Before he can say anything, though, Henrik says, “I think—” His voice is quiet, like what he’s saying is a secret that only he and Chase can know, “I think that my hand is broken.”

And then, to his own surprise, Chase is laughing, too.

He can’t seem to stop the grin from splitting across his lips or the onslaught of laughter from erupting from him. Henrik’s laughing again, so Chase doesn’t really feel _that_ bad.

More tears are rolling down Chase’s cheeks, but the grin’s still spread across his lips.

Nothing’s changed.

Chase can’t tell if that’s a bad thing or not.


End file.
